


The Story of the Uncharacteristic Godmom

by BrokePerception



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 01:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokePerception/pseuds/BrokePerception
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of Hugo Weasley's birth, and the reason why his godmother Minerva McGonagall and his mother never were any closer than since his arrival.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Story of the Uncharacteristic Godmom

Hermione intuitively cradled her aching lumbar region with her left hand as another back spasm went through her spine. She continued to scramble in the pan with eggs as the pain once again faded. Just like with Rose, back spasms weren't particularly uncommon – especially not in the morning for one reason or another. She was happy enough that this little one didn't have her confined to the bed, just like Rose had the two last months of her first pregnancy.

The sound of Ron's heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and the distinctive happy squeals of their two-year-old daughter filled the air. She smiled, looking up as Ron came walking into the kitchen with their daughter on his hip. Hermione's smile widened upon seeing her daughter's arms stretched for her. Ron thus padded over to the stove and leaned their daughter just close enough to Hermione to allow her to give his wife a sloppy morning kiss, careful not to lean too close to the fire just in case. "Good morning, princess," Hermione greeted, then stood on her tiptoes to kiss Ron as well.

With a grin, Ron turned to put little Rose in her high chair, easily Accio-ed a new slob from the high closet next to the fridge, caught it then tied it around Rose's neck. She usually took a lot of room to eat – very likely inherited from her father.

A sigh sounded through the little kitchen. "You easily could have gone and fetched it without magic," Hermione reprimanded, as she turned off the stove and picked up the pan, first pushing a bit of scrambled egg on Rose's plastic pink plate, then putting it in the middle of the table, out of reach of their daughter. She was the kind of toddler to want to inspect every little thing no matter what. "Just because you can, doesn't…"

"…mean that you should," Ron finished. "I know." He drew his wife in his embrace, kissing her temple and then further down her jaw. "I never heard you get up this morning," he whispered.

"How could you?" Hermione said and chuckled. "You were snoring like hell," she explained, seeing Ron's confused expression.

"I don't snore, Hermione."

"Do, too. And hard," she said, looking down at Ron's hand as it came to rest on the side of her belly. She put her hand on top of his and smiled. "You have woken him or her before me, though," she said. "I'm glad that the baby finally settled down."

"I would have loved to feel him or her," Ron said and pouted.

"As if you don't every day."

"I know," Ron admitted, "but I guess I better enjoy the last moments that he or she is going to be in your belly. Soon enough, we'll be with four. Not that I mind," he added upon seeing Hermione's quirked eyebrow. He quickly busied himself with wiping Rose's chin with a tip of her slob and settled on her right on the table, helping himself to a copious amount of scrambled egg. "Is there any bread?" He asked.

With a rather annoyed sigh, Hermione put the bag right in front of him and settled opposite him on the breakfast table, taking a bit longer with her pregnant tummy. She had put on much more weight than with Rose. She once again wondered how she was ever going to get rid of the fat again as she was reminded of that fact by having to sit about a meter away from the table due to her large belly.

Ron hadn't failed to notice her hiding a wince as she had sat down. "Are you all right?" He asked. "I mean, if you don't feel well, maybe you shouldn't go to Hogsmeade with Gin this afternoon."

"I'm fine, Ron," Hermione said and sighed, giving up on reaching for the bag of bread. She leaned her elbow on the table and allowed her forehead to drop against her palm. "Can you hand me the bag of bread, please?" Hermione asked, giving an almost unnoticeable smile of gratitude as Ron quietly pushed the bag a bit closer. Hermione quietly took two slices of bread and threw them on her plate, before raising her head again.

"Are you in pain?" He asked, a little bit anxious. He suddenly vividly recalled the morning ahead of Rose's birth. It actually had been much alike this.

"Ron, for Merlin's sodden sake! I'm fine! I'm only having a head-ache!"

Screams of the youngest Weasley of the household sounded through the kitchen at once. Ron just looked at her in a sort of ‘You got what you wanted'-way and continued eating, as Hermione got up and pulled their daughter out of the high chair, holding her close and rocking her gently on her hip. "I'm sorry, sweetie. Mommy shouldn't have yelled."

"Indeed you shouldn't have," Ron replied, then swallowed the rest of what he might have said upon the look on his wife's furious face. Never mess with a pregnant woman, because you never know how the hormones will react…

* * *

"'Ermione!"

Hermione quietly turned her head to the left and saw Rubeus Hagrid happily waving his bin sized hand at her. Even though the lot of customers that sat and stood into the little pub called The Three Broomsticks, it wasn't hard to notice the Hogwarts Gamekeeper and Hogwarts Professor of Care of Magical Creatures between the load of them at all. Hermione smiled, uneasily beginning to make her way through the other customers trying not to hit them with her enlarged tummy or any of the bags she was carrying along with her. As she neared Hagrid, she could see the familiar over-sized boarhound dog which the tenderhearted half-giant had called his pet for years and which carried the name Fang. As usual, Fang was slobbering all over Hagrid's knee again, soaking the fabric of his trousers. Hagrid couldn't seem to care less about it, though.

Hagrid's smile widened as she came into view. "So what ya doin' here?" He asked. "I haven' seen ye in a while! Ye seem to ha' grown a bit!" He added, as Hermione carefully sat down on a stool supporting her belly with a hand, putting her load of bags on the next one. He momentarily eyed the younger woman's belly in a hopeful, sensitive kind of way. "Is he... or she...?" He began. "I mean..."

Hermione chuckled, then nodded. "Go ahead," she said, finishing up unbuttoning her coat and putting her hand aside so that Hagrid could feel the baby moving about in her tummy. She was quite used to this behavior by now. It had been the same with Rose, especially near the end.

Hagrid's dark eyes twinkled madly as he reached to put his large hand upon Hermione's swollen belly with a rather unforeseeable tenderness. No matter the size of his hand, it didn't really manage to cover Hermione's entire belly anymore – a fact both realized at once. Hagrid first voiced that realization. "Well, look at tha’!" He exclaimed. Hermione merely chuckled. "I could cover the whole of yer belly just fine with one hand last month! I believe that ye've become bigger than ya ever were with little Rosie!" He added, continuing to move his hand all over to try and find where the little one's feet were kicking.

Hermione nodded. "That's true. I'll be glad to have this little one born," she said, lovingly patting her belly there were Hagrid's hand didn't cover it already. "He – or she," she added, upon seeing Hagrid's eyebrow quirking, "is getting quite heavy. It isn't easy to sleep or do anything else with a bulge like this strapped to you all day and night." Hagrid's face fell, as he couldn't really find where the baby's feet were hiding. Hermione quietly put her hand on his and moved his hand a bit to the right. Hagrid's face lit up upon feeling the little Weasley kick, then pulled back as the kicking weakened. "He's settling down," Hermione said, then hopped off the stool. "Ladies' room," she elucidated upon reading the confusion spread on Hagrid's face. "Another disadvantage of expecting. Would you be so kind to watch my bags?" She asked, waiting on Hagrid's nod and then disappearing in the direction of the lavatories.

Even going to the toilet took longer than it should when so far along... As Hermione quietly allowed the water to rinse the soap off her fingers, it came to her attention that the little one housing in her tummy didn't appear to have settled down after all. In fact, its kicking only appeared to have gotten more strength behind it than earlier. She momentarily let her big hazel eyes wander around the lavatory to make sure she was really alone, then lifted her top and let her finger tips stroke over the ripples and eddies in her belly. She sometimes did this at night when she couldn't fall asleep, or woke. She then often seated herself into the rocker in the nursery, watching little Rose peacefully asleep, while entertaining her sibling inside her mother's tummy. It didn't take her much longer to find the baby's little feet. She momentarily gave them a push through the skin of her belly. The baby began moving once again, then beginning to kick a few inches further, as if inviting her to find his or her feet again. Hermione merrily laughed at the playfulness of the baby inside her tummy. She hunted the feet a few more times, until the baby appeared to have gotten tired by their game, then patted her belly lovingly. "Sleep, my darling," she said, pulling down her top. After having made sure that it entirely covered her belly, she headed into the pub again.

She carefully sat down on the stool which she had occupied earlier and gratefully noticed the Butterbeer Hagrid already appeared to have ordered for her. "I hope ye don't mind me orderin' ya a Butterbeer?"

"No, of course I don't," she said and reached for the glass of hot liquid.

"Ye've got quite a load o' bags with ye," Hagrid voiced. "Ye never told me what ye were doin' 'ere all alone."

"I wasn't supposed to have been alone," Hermione said, putting down her glass again. "Ginny and I had both ordered some things at Flynn's for the children, but she wanted to stay with little James. He had made a bit of a fever through the night. So I agreed to collect what she'd ordered as well and take it with when we're going there tomorrow for dinner." Hagrid nodded, understanding. "The cold began to grow fiercer, so I thought I have some Butterbeer to warm a bit here."

So that's what she did, until her eyes incidentally fell upon the time: nearly nine. "Oh!" She exclaimed, jumping off her seat again and gathering all of her purchases. "Ron'll be waiting!" she said, hurriedly pushing a kiss to Hagrid's cheek where his beard ended and hurrying through the customers far more easily than when she had gotten in to warm up. A lot of the customers had left the pub already since then.

Night had begun to fall, Hermione noticed, upon walking into the open again. The moon was already high in the sky. It only appeared to have gotten colder as well. She should have listened to Ron and wore warmer robes. Hermione sighed, walking slowly in the direction of the lively main street while searching for her wand. She halted quite suddenly as her fingers finally caught on something slender and wooden. The snow mercilessly continued to swirl around her, bothering her view into the cold February night. The powerful nightly wind causing her bushy darker hair to whip around her face wasn't very cooperative either. Right when her shaky fingers closed around her wand, a sharper pain coursed through the lower regions of her belly. She intuitively reached to put a hand to it, dropping a few shopping bags as she did. She hunched over as another even sharper pain followed, seemingly accompanying the first. The rest of her bags dropped down into the snow as well as she reached to lean heavily against a wall nearby with her free hand. Hermione's brow crinkled as she held onto her belly harder, hoping the pain would disappear soon enough, and exhaling a long, shaky breath as she did. "Easy, little one," she whispered, hoping against all hope that that baby was merely kicking somewhat harder than usual, even though this pain terrifyingly reminded Hermione of the day that Rose had been born. If indeed this was labor, she would never get home to Ron anymore tonight. She was in no condition to Apparate. She just couldn't put her concentration on anything else but the pain long enough not to risk getting Splinched. The pain and cold washing over and through her whole being didn't help at all. Maybe... maybe she could try get to Hogwarts and try Flooing home... once the pain was over at least. It wasn't such a very long distance to the gates anymore. The idea of going into The Three Broomsticks again or another pub with lots of customers didn't really appeal to her in any way.

Hermione's hazel eyes fluttered open again, her having squeezed them shut tightly while trying to breathe through the pain of her first contraction. The pain appeared to be over... for now. She thus intuitively bent to gather her bags, but failed. The pain that shot through her lumbar region upon that move was as bad as any contraction. She thus slowly reached for her wand to levitate her purchases, right when a rather familiar tall figure appeared beside her with a pop. Hermione immediately recognized the woman as her former Head of House and Transfigurations Professor, who had taken over the position of Headmistress after the Battle.

"Miss Granger!" She exclaimed, after having smoothed down her robes and having conjured a shield around her for the cold snow and wind.

"Professor," Hermione acknowledged. "What are you doing here?" She barely managed to say as she began feeling the pain in her lower regions beginning to grow in intensity again. Another contraction would announce itself soon...

"I had a meeting at the Ministry. I would have Flooed in, had their Floos been working well, but didn't dare take the risk after what happened earlier today. So now I had to Apparate through the snowst– Miss Granger, Hermione, are you all right?" She asked, watching the much younger woman hunch over gripping her belly. Minerva's green eyes slid over the purchases in the snow, and it didn't take her much longer to put things together. She moved over to offer the younger witch some support. She easily waved her wand to send Hermione's purchases to Hogwarts already ahead of them and to stretch her shield over Hermione as well, so that the snow and cold couldn't touch either of them anymore.

"I was hoping... to Floo..." Hermione managed, in between heavy breaths.

"Shh..." Minerva whispered. "We'll go easy. I'm right here."

Going easy is what both women actually did. A few more contractions had them both halt a couple of times until reaching the gates of Hogwarts. "Nearly there," Minerva whispered, as her former pupil quietly nodded again to indicate the contraction was over, and she could move along. With another wave of her wand, quietly muttering the incantations needed, the gates to the domain slowly opened to let them pass. Hermione was leaning heavily on her now.

"These... contractions... are terrifyingly... clooose!" Hermione uttered, voice pitching as another one broke through, and she began breathing heavily again, knees nearly giving due to the intensity of her labor pains. She could barely remain upright and had no other choice, but to hold onto her former professor harder. She shakily buried her head in Minerva's neck, both hands resting on the elder woman's shoulders. Minerva had never given birth. She had no idea just how this could possibly feel like, but it appeared very painful to say the least. She intuitively began to trace soothing circles along Hermione's lower back, relieved to hear her muttering something that sounded a lot like, "Feels good." Then suddenly the far younger witch gasped as something wet trickled down her leg: first only a little bit of fluid, then a whole gush. She had experienced this once already. She knew what this was... "My water... just... broke," Hermione announced, tears accompanying her words now. The pain was unbearable. She wanted to sit, or lie, or... whatever. Now there was certainly no way of her getting home anymore, if there was any similarity with Rose. Everything would only go even faster now... She would have to give birth at Hogwarts...

"Shh..." Minerva whispered. Minerva tenderly continued to rub Hermione's back just like that until the contraction was over, then called one of the House Elves, that could Apparate within Hogwarts easily. Hermione shouldn't have to walk the rest of the distance if there was another way, which there actually was. "Milksy?" She called, just as Hermione began slumping against her. She barely heard Minerva's voice, as her vision faded into black.

* * *

When Hermione gained consciousness, she didn't immediately recognize her surroundings, but taking into consideration the intensity of that particular smell she had long associated with Minerva wafting up her nostrils, she assumed that this would be Minerva McGonagall's personal rooms. Her eyes tiredly fluttered, and she only registered the other woman sitting on the edge of the bed right then. She slowly redirected her gaze down and noticed herself tucked in a warm bed – Minerva's bed. She gratefully eyed her former Transfigurations Professor as the elder woman tenderly turned the wet washcloth lying on her forehead on the other side. "You're in my rooms," Minerva confirmed. "I thought that maybe you would feel more comfortable here than in the infirmary, with others watching you.

Hermione gratefully nodded, reaching for Minerva's hand as another mild contraction coursed through her belly. Her other hand intuitively reached for it. Her eyes scrunched up, and she began breathing heavily through the pain again. It eased rather soon. "How long… have I been unconscious?" Hermione asked, realizing what must have happened since she barely recalled Minerva calling a House Elf, and then her memory faded into nothingness.

"We have only been here a couple of minutes, so… not long. I have called Madam Pomfrey. She's going to be here soon… I hope."

"Please… don't go," Hermione whispered, tightening her grip on the elder woman's hand.

"I won't," Minerva assured.

Hermione nodded. "Good. Ron has to be informed… He's likely going insane at home now, so…" However, a lot happened together then. Poppy Pomfrey burst through the door to Minerva's bedroom, carrying her bag with necessities for this birth, little traces of soot upon her robes indicating she must have Flooed, as the heaviest contraction by far announced itself, and made Hermione painfully squeeze Minerva's hand again, a wail inevitable of passing over her lips. "AAARGH!" She screamed, legs kicking.

"Shh…" Minerva soothed, running her slender fingertips over Hermione's forehead, pushing away the locks of hair that had gotten matted to her forehead already. "I'm right here," she said, hoping that indeed it would be some reassurance and comfort.

* * *

Minerva remained right there as well, through whole of the ordeal. However, just like Hermione had already guessed since she had felt her water break, and like Poppy had confirmed upon checking how far along Hermione was in giving life to Ron's child, it hadn't taken long to reach this point. "All right, you are very close," Poppy announced. "A few more really good pushes are all we need."

"You have been saying that for the last half hour! I cannot do this anymore," Hermione whispered, tiredly eying her former Transfigurations Professor, whose face was ash white.

"You can," Minerva whispered. "You're a Gryffindor, and you have done great already," she added, busying herself with mopping the sweat off of Hermione's brow. Hermione eyed her wearily. Anyone could see how exhausted she was.

"That's right," Poppy said. "Now…  Push!" She added, the nearly imperceptible change in Hermione's breathing telling her another contraction was coming. Tiredly, Hermione inhaled, and bore down to push harder than ever, not caring about the consequences it would leave on Minerva's hand right now. She hadn't even let go of the elder witch's hand for a second. "That's it, Hermione!" Poppy exclaimed, taking Hermione's other hand to offer her more support now when she was doing so good.

Hermione groaned, falling into the pillows as the contraction finally eased off again. "I can see the head already," Minerva announced, with a little smile. "You're nearly there." Hermione nodded, momentarily running her thumb across Minerva's painful hand. Both women eyed the other, and a very unique type of understanding passed between them. As the now familiar tensing of muscles told Hermione that another contraction was coming along, she gathered all her strength. This would be the last damn one… Hermione's teeth gritted into each other as she bore down once again on Poppy's command and pushed with all she had. She couldn't appear to care any less when whole of her body began quivering with effort, her face turning violet at the same time… until the baby eventually slid free.

Poppy easily cleared the little Weasley's airways, which he immediately put to good use to scream his arrival. "You have a baby boy!" Poppy exclaimed, naturally using her wand to cut and cauterize the cord and wrapping the squirming little one into a warm blanket, then handing him to his mother. Minerva calmly helped her former pupil to sit up, her eyes uncharacteristically watery with emotion as she watched Hermione accepting her baby boy, not caring at all about the blood or slime. She tenderly offered her forefinger, which the boy later named Hugo accepted. Hermione was so enthralled by that little boy that she barely registered Poppy taking care of her painfully torn womanly features. She, however, didn't fail to register the former Head of Gryffindor House getting up, strangely turning her eyes away.

Hermione quietly smiled. "Wouldn't you like to hold your godson?"

Minerva turned to face her, her eyes obviously showing the evidence of her either having cried or on the verge of bursting into tears. "What?" She questioned, wiping her eyes with a particularly ugly tartan hanky.

"Ron and I would have liked you to be this little one's godmother, if you're of course willing to be." Hermione smiled wide upon seeing Minerva's eyes widen and her mouth open a couple of times without managing to speak anything else but gibberish little syllables. "We thought that we would have some more time to ask… but this one said otherwise," she elucidated, pointing at the now calming baby boy in her arms.

"Are you…?"

"I'm serious."

"I need… to sit…" Minerva whispered, and Poppy easily conjured an armchair beside the bed, just in time to catch Minerva, who was eyeing both mother and son.

"Would you like to hold him?" Hermione asked again.

Minerva shyly nodded, and Hermione carefully leaned over to place her son in his godmother's arms. The sight of an emotional, shy Minerva was something so uncharacteristic that no one would have believed it when not having seen it by themselves. Minerva quietly accepted the bundle and held it to her. "So, you're my godson?" She questioned.

At that, the boy later named Hugo nuzzled into Minerva's embrace. "There, now you've got no other choice," Poppy said. "That's settled then," she said, winking at Hermione.


End file.
